


Male Reader X Female Eddie Gluskin

by CampGreen



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Horror, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: A smutfic adapting my favorite horror villain of all time - Red Barrels' Eddie Gluskin, from Outlast: Whistleblower.





	1. The New Kid

Mount Massive Asylum for the Criminally Insane. 

A gothic, medieval castle trying and failing to seem like a legitimate mental institute, even with the immeasurably powerful and wealthy Murkoff Corporation funding it. It's pretty hard to come off as a serious hospital these days with the outdated, cliche "Asylum" in your name, bonus points for the "Criminally Insane" part. You used to hear stories about this place when you were a kid, about the staff being victimized by their own patients. Now you're working the night shift here right before your twenty first birthday. Isn't it funny how life works sometimes? You enter the set of buildings through Administration and check in, welcomed by a handful of fellow nurses busily buzzing about. The dimly-lit halls are dead and empty, since there's much less staff here after hours. This place is creepy inside and out, like an old haunted house on the outskirts of town. As you make your way to the nurses station, a woman in a labcoat addresses you when you pass one another.

_"Hey, you're the new nurse, right?"_ she asks in a slick, inattentive tone. 

_"Yes, ma'am."_

_"Great, welcome to Mount Massive. You were hired at just the right time, we've been running low on staff recently."_

_"Why's that?"_

_"A new patient's been hospitalizing and scaring employees off left and right."_

_"Ha, hospitalized."_

_"A nurse just like you had a chunk bitten out of her cheek last week. Do you think that's funny, young man?"_

_"N-No, I didn't mean it like that! I meant, like, it's funny that they were hospitalized in a hospital..."_ Great, now you're an idiot, apparently. 

_"Hilarious. Anyways, you have experience, correct?"_

_"Yes, ma'am, I worked at Denver Health for half a year previously."_

_"Then you should already know the ins and outs."_

_"If you don't mind me asking, who's the patient? The one that's been biting off people's faces?"_

_"Patient #1471. The most feral subject I've ever come across, and I've been working psych wards for a solid decade. She's a rabid dog trapped in the body of a woman, there's no other way of putting it. You won't have to worry about her though, I'm assigning you to a different block."_

_"Uh, thanks."_

_"Here,"_ the doctor fetches a loaded utility cart from one of the janitor closets. _"Make yourself useful and cart this down to the Male Ward, they were running low on supplies last time I checked. There's a directory around the corner."_

_"Yes, ma'am."_

You wring the cart by its handle and, taking a good glance at the directory she spoke of, wheel it through the shabbily maintained corridors of the sizable institute. Murkoff didn't do a very good job at renovating this place since its shutdown in the 70's, but whatever, it's clean enough, you suppose. After a short walk, you arrive at one of the Ward's supply closets. As you park the cart, your peripherals catch a bin on one of the shelves marked "Patient Dossiers". Out of curiosity, you take a few minutes to dig through it, with one keyword in mind - Gluskin. Eventually you find what you're looking for, and slip it out from pile of papers.

_"NAME: Gluskin, Edna_  
_NUMBER: 1471_  
_SEX: Female_  
_AGE: 37_  
_INFORMATION: Gluskin was once a notorious serial killer whose spree claimed the lives of 28 innocent women before apprehension by law enforcement. Patient's psychology is best described as a crude facsimile of stereotypical 1950's middle class America. Gluskin is old-fashioned and obsessed with growing the perfect Nuclear Family. She violently lashes out at the presence of any female staff in the asylum, yet treats their male counterparts with charming albeit outdated manners. She will, however, try everything in her power to feminize the male in an attempt to make him her "bride". It can be theorized that, thanks to the domestic abuse suffered as a child, she's obsessed with becoming a classic patriarch with a man (or in her own twisted mind, a "bride") under her unquestionable dominance to compensate for the control she never had in her youth, and her hatred of actual women can be seen as eliminating the competition and/or an exaggerated conservative misogyny. WARNING: Never belittle or even address the fallacies behind the patient's mindset. She has invariably responded to such with barbaric outbursts in the past."_

Christ, what a character. You could take some selfish solace in that she only targets women, but that doesn't change the fact you're sharing workplaces with a twisted serial killer who's all kinds of a mental train-wreck. As you methodically unload the supplies upon the Ward, you can't get what you read out of your mind. You feel sorry for the woman. Sympathy for someone who butchered 28 innocent people, who would've thought. How broken could a person possibly be, to genuinely believe the things she believes? It blows your mind and you begin to get intimidated by the worry of working in an institute. You try to shake it off so it doesn't distract you from your assignment, and you finish up your first job with a decent performance.


	2. The Groom

On your way back to the nurses station, you're again pulled aside by another colleague.

 _"Hey, you, new kid!"_ It's coming from the crack of an open office door. You creep in and are greeted by a security guard getting up from his chair. _"Would you mind keeping an eye on the cameras for a quick sec while I take an early lunch break? It'll only take five minutes tops, I promise."_

 _"Uh, yeah, sure,"_ you timidly agree. You really don't want to do a guard's job, but it's best not to let anyone down on the first day.

 _"Thanks, man, I owe you one,"_ he says as he bruises your shoulder with a 'friendly' slap and disappears. 

You slump down in the office chair where a wall of twenty televisions hang over you, each providing security camera footage of the patients' cells. Some pace, some sleep, others mutilate themselves, but one patient stands out from this small batch you've been dealt with. A black mop drapes down her face like a curtain, and she wears nothing but an undone straitjacket and inmate slacks. If it weren't for her toes twiddling, you'd think you were looking at a still image. Then her head fires up. A couple of bloodshot eyes stare through the strings of black drooping around her head. Her gaze scorches through the camera, out of the monitor, and into your heart. She knows you're watching her. Suddenly she reveals a knife, probably snagged from the kitchen, and threateningly aims it at her own throat. You shoot up out of the chair and bolt for her cell, catching it from the number on her monitor. 1471. You dart down the stairs and arrive at the grungy blocks of the Prison, where the worst of patients are treated like inmates. With no fellow employees in sight to help, you take extra precaution in entering, knowing a brutal, shank-armed psycho lies on the other side. You have a sedative in your pocket and enough experience with wild patients to not feel like you're walking into a death-trap, but that doesn't stop your heart from beating like crazy. The inside of the cell is just a black shade, even with the light from the open doorway pouring in. It's empty. There's no one in this small room other than yourself. Unless-

_**"Darling!"** _

Before the thought of "what" can even leap from your synapses, you're tackled to the ground from behind. She was hiding in the shadows of one of the corners. Wrists pinned to the floor and at her complete mercy, you absorb in your attacker's appearance as she stalks over you from a few inches above. She's approaching middle-age, but there's still a look of youthful spirit in her wicked smile and the two horribly bloodshot eyes that ogled you through the security feed. She'd seem cute if the side of her face didn't look as if it was gently roasted in a fire for a few seconds. You're locked gazes with Patient #1471, Edna Gluskin.

 _"Did I frighten you?"_ she innocently asks, smile never wavering. She speaks in a soft Mid-Atlantic accent, like the people on early Cold War-era TV. _"I'm awfully sorry, I didn't mean to. I also couldn't apologize enough for the whole self-harm stunt I pulled to lure you here. It was the only way I could get my hands on that soft, immaculate skin of yours,"_ she creepily compliments as she plants kisses on your neck. _"Oh, what kind of lady am I? I'm sorry, dear, I can barely contain myself. You know how a man gets when he wants to know a woman."_

_"W-Who the hell are you?!"_

_"Who am I?"_ she lets a giggle escape. _"Why, I'm your soulmate, darling! God has a plan for us all, and the two of us were made for one another! I felt it as we watched each other through that camera, and I feel it now as my hands and lips caress you."_

Slamming the door shut with the kick of her heel, she rips off your scrubs and tosses you onto the bed, in a caring and gentle but dominant and powerful fashion. You reach for your sedative but feel nothing in your pockets. It must've fallen out in the midst of all of the manhandling. Mounting her knees on the floor, she tenderizes your waist with kisses to your perineal, which makes your flabby cock shoot up like a flagpole.

_"My, my, darling! Even your member is endearingly modest! How have you never been claimed before?"_

Your past self and your future self would be disgusted by this display, submitting yourself as a patient's boy toy. But in the moment, there's just something about the way she fondles you that makes you want to melt into her like you're her number one fan. You hold up the two of your legs as Edna readies to feast from between them. Your boner impatiently wags up and down, like the beckoning of an index finger. She slurps at your shaft as if it's an ice cream cone and your body gets so tired from its shudders and recoils at the seraphic rapture that you have to rest your shins on her shoulders. It doesn't take long for your duct to gush a shot glass worth of jizz to coat your clammy, nude body from cheek to groin. She rakes her tongue up the still river of white, and its journey ends with one final lick up the side of your face.

_"How'd you like that, dear? The first taste of our beautiful union?"_

_"...u-union?"_ you mutter out, drunk off the rough molestation you just endured. 

_"You'll see, darling. Edna will make it happen, you needn't worry,"_ she promises in a motherly fashion as she combs your hair with her fingers and dots your cheeks with soft pecks. Suddenly the cell door busts open and a couple of nurses pry Edna off of you to detain her. She thrashes and bawls at the top of her lungs _**"NO! NO! YOU FILTHY FUCKING MACHINES, GET OFF ME YOU JACK-BOOTED PIGS!"**_ in a disjointed song of unhinged hatred, silenced by a tranquilizer to the neck. 

_"Tough first day, huh,"_ one of the nurses casually banter at you, confused, defiled, and mostly unclothed, as she holds Edna down until her twisting and hollering stop, succumbing to the sedative. 


	3. The Mount Massive Slaughter

After getting cleaned up and redressed, you're taken back to the Male Ward, this time as a patient, where you're tested for STDs (Murkoff might be an unscrupulous corporation but they have some of the best and quickest medical service in the country) and offered counseling to help overcome the trauma. 

_"No thank you, ma'am,"_ you decline. _"I can handle it myself."_

 _"Well, aren't you a soldier?"_ the doctor hands out a snobbish pat on the back. _"And we can agree that this incident doesn't leave the mountain, correct?"_

Wow, you knew Murkoff was run by a bunch of slimy executives but this is ridiculous, already making sure one of the victims of their shoddy asylum doesn't squeal. _"What incident?"_ you sarcastically ask to play along. 

_"That's a good boy. I'll throw you a bone and give you an extra five minute break, how's that sound? Oh, and said break started three minutes ago, by the way."_

_"Thank you, doctor."_

_"Mm hmm,"_ she mumbles as she departs the checkup room. Bitch.

You lay back down on the exam table with your palms acting as pillows, watching your break slip away with every tick of the clock's hands. You've been working here for not but one hour and you've already been fondled by the facility's worst patient and told to keep hush hush about the incident before you even leave the damn check up room. You're sure if you were less of a pushover in the deal, she would've threatened your family. The pay's the best in the state though, that you can't deny. You're gonna force yourself stomach at least six months worth of work here. It's clear the staff doesn't care about wearing a smile with it like most health centers do. You're ripped out of your quiet reflection upon your new life situation when suddenly your eyes turn off. For a split second you think you were knocked out or something, but no. A blackout, great. As if this fucking nuthouse couldn't get any creepier. You fumble around in the darkness and feel a small aluminum box, a camcorder, laying atop one of the medical counters. You've seen a lot of these little things laying about the facility and always wondered why. You navigate over to its night-vision setting to restore your sense of sight, now with a green filter. Before your eyes can fully adjust to the makeshift flashlight, you hear a haunting wail of gunfire and screaming coming from a few halls over. 

You rush over to the sound of the chaos, but by the time you get there, all that's left is the silent aftermath. You only catch a short glance of what lies from within the corridor, but it's more than enough for you to vomit your guts out and choke up a whole stomach worth's of puke. Nurses, doctors, technicians, and guards ripped to shreds by...something. You saw bone, entrails, and gallons of blood painting the chipped white walls of the Male Ward like a horrendous mural. The only answer to this massacre is a riot, but surely no human could induce bloodshed that beastly, right? Whatever the case, there's certainly something fiercely dangerous lurking around with you in these halls. You have enough sense to know the fastest way to get the hell out of here is from the way you came - the Admin Block. You take a gulp and try to forget the horrors you saw in that corridor whilst you make your way through the asylum's maze-like bowels. God, this is worst fucking first day ever. 

The Ward is already looking like some post-apocalyptic setting, with almost every door either torn off its hinges or barricaded by patient beds and lockers. It really makes the dilapidation of the old place pop out. You find plenty more of your fallen coworkers strewn about, and while it does sicken you to the bone to see so many fresh corpses dressed like yourself in your own workplace, you manage to handle it since it's not as gratuitously gruesome as your first peek at a bloodbath. Or maybe you're already jaded, after losing every figment of your innocence a few minutes ago. In your trek to Administration, you cut through the Prison, returning to its cracked, beige plaster walls and cold concrete flooring. You wander for what feels like hours, avoiding the paths that produce the ambiance of distant howling and bars rattling, until you find a directory that points you to a nearby entrance to the Admin Block. Your pupils start to tire from using a camcorder like a pair of glasses for so long. You submerge yourself back into the darkness for a few seconds to wipe your eyes clean, and raise the camera back up. Now two white glowing eyes stand inches away from your face. 

Something metal smashes you in the back of the head. A dull pain surges about your skull as you wallow on the ground. Four shadows tower over you. You make out their features - tall, bulky, horribly deformed freaks clothed in ragged patient scrubs. They're armed with the residue of the riot, slaughter's a better word, like pipes and batons. You're nabbed by the ankles and one of them tries tearing your uniform off. You kick your sole into her face to loosen her grasp, and scatter to a stand as you hurriedly pull your pants back up. You narrowly duck under the swing of one of their weapons and with every fiber of your stamina and effort, bolt as far away from the escapees as possible. They ravenously babble at the top of their lungs in their mindless pursuit of you. _**"DEATH AND TAXES! WALRIDER! I WANT MY MONEY!"**_ It's all one petrifying chorus of insanity, barreling at you from only a few feet behind. The chase climaxes at the Prison's rooftop that overlooks the now rain-washed asylum grounds and surrounding wilderness as a midnight storm settles into the atmosphere. Cornered. You're six stories above the closest blade of grass. The only survivable place to land is the roof of a building you don't recognize. Sure, you are a rookie, but you read those plans well and according to them, that building, which looks to be an old maintenance shed the size of a gym, should just empty space. You take a deep breath and leap off the Prison onto the next chunk of the institute right before you're jumped by the quartet of maniacs. 


	4. The Vocational Block

You viciously crash through the rotten wooden roof of the shed and your fall is "cushioned" by a bulky storage shelf that clatters to the floor under your weight. You feel as if you just got hit by a bus, brain bouncing around your skull and sides in a terrible ache. After getting used to the shock, your heart finally starts slowing down. Rain showers down onto you and drenches your clothes from the hole you left in the ceiling. Your fingers brush past something metal - your camcorder, thank God. At least now you'll be able to see wherever the hell you've cast yourself into this time. You weakly rise to your feet as the pain loosens, and soak in your new surroundings from behind the night-vision filter whilst your battery begins to weaken. The Vocational Block. You can gather it's some completely rundown slice of the facility where patients used to calm themselves with arts and crafts. It's all one big labyrinth of workshops and sewing supplies made of nothing but rickety old wood and rusty old metal, cluttered with dozens of tarnished shelves and timber counters. You scan the decayed husk of a factory with the planks creaking from beneath you with every step. 

Your careful exploration is interjected when the main, boarded up doors fly open, with the four hulking patients from before hanging in the doorway. What feels like a heart-racing fever dream starts right back up again and the chase resumes throughout the halls of a forgotten asylum block. You've hit another dead end in the form of a small workshop. The only exit is back the way you came, where the inmates are closing in. You need to think fast. A vent, a hiding place... The shelf! After great physical strain, you manage to barricade the door with the pushing of the old refrigerator-sized case of metal. Muffled banging and heinous insults roar from the other side of the door as your pursuers try to break in, and you cower from under a bed to tearfully pray it'll be a good enough hiding spot. You're so scared out of your mind it takes you a while to realize the commotion stopped, leaving nothing but a hollow silence to fill the room you've been cornered in. Just when you think the nightmare is finally over, your shin is seized and you're yanked out from under the bed. 

A scream of terror bellows from your lungs up to the outside world, but it's cut off by a warm, calming _"Shhhhh,"_ and a finger getting placed upon your lips. Your eyes are locked with two scarlet scleras. It's Edna! But you barely recognize her now. As opposed to the crazed, tattered asylum dweller you saw in that cell, now she almost looks like a gorgeous woman cosplaying as a pretty boy, if it weren't for the burn on her face and the snapped veins in her eyes. Now her hair's done up in a neat fade pompadour, and her drably colored costume consists of a threadbare tuxedo spliced with a rolled up dress shirt, topped with a cute bow-tie and floored by a skirt with a pair of fingerless gloves. 

_"I would never let those animals hurt you, darling,"_ she assures as she streaks her fingers through your hair. She wraps a string of measuring tape around your waist as she rambles on. _"To you, my arms are the safest place in the world, I swear it on my life."_

 _"E-Edna?"_ you quietly question, taken aback.

 _"Yes, it's me, darling. I've cleaned myself up just for you,"_ the lady says as she holds the tape in her mouth for a second to lift up your arm and measure its diameter. _"It's not much, but it's all I could salvage from this old block we've rediscovered. Now that there's no more swinish monsters to interrupt our private time, what's say the two of us pick it back up?"_

Tempting. So fucking tempting. But you would never forgive yourself in hindsight, knowing you fucked one of your own patients as a hellish riot erupted around you.

 _"No, Edna,"_ you decline her request. _"It's my job to keep you safe as professionally as possible. I'm already sick to my stomach knowing I let my hormones get the better of me back in that cell. You're mentally unwell and you need to get back in your room, riot or not. Understand?"_

 _"Darling, you're being hysterical."_ She gives a playful, dismissive scoff. _"Women!"_

_"...I'm not a woman, Edna."_

_"Of course you are. I'm the groom and you're the bride. I'm the one in the tuxedo and you're soon to be the one in the dress. Oop! I've said too much!"_

_"Edna, go back to your cell. It's safer for yourself and ev-"_

_**"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU FILTHY WHORE! YOU'RE THE WOMAN, AND I'M THE MAN, AND I SAY WHAT I DO AND WHAT YOU DO!"** _

Mask of politeness shattered from a few wrong words, Gluskin unsheathes a kitchen knife and nearly lances your heart it. You barely dodge the attack with a roll to the side, and you spring up off the ground to flee from the workshop. 

_"Oh my God, darling, I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me! Darling?! **COME BACK!** "_ you hear her voice, growing fainter and fainter the further you escape.


	5. I Want a Girl

In your mad sprint throughout the Vocational Block, you glance back and see Gluskin pursuing you with nothing more than a casual stroll. At least she's too much of a "lady" to run. You hastefully scan your surroundings but it all looks the same. You don't even know where you came in from. Gluskin's unhurried footsteps get closer, and you hopelessly seek refuge from underneath one of the benches. You watch in a frozen terror as her boots stomp about the ancient, dust-varnished factory. 

_"Darling, come out! Please! I didn't mean to scare you off!"_

Then your camera starts to beep, from a drained battery. It's like a petulant child that won't stop crying. Shut up. Shut the fuck up, you worthless piece of aluminum. You have to sloppily rip the damn batteries out just to shut the thing up.

Silence.

A persistent silence bursting with an ungodly dread.

...

_**"DARLING!"** _

Not even given a change to react, you're snatched by your hair and a soaked rag presses against the bottom half of your face. Like you were drugged by an anesthetic, your muscles go limp and debilitate you with fatigue and the snap of finger. 

_"I think all of the stress has made you delirious, darling,"_ you hear Gluskin's pleasant voice in your ear. _"A peaceful little nap will purify your mind, I'm sure of it."_

Her voice gets more and more distorted, stretched, and dreamy with each word until the chloroform captures your consciousness like darkness swallowing light. Your eyelids feebly flutter open hours later as the roofie retreats from your system. Four tight ropes choke your wrists and ankles, bounding them to the bed-frame of the mattress you lay upon. You very quickly give up in your attempt at escape after only a few tugs and yanks. The lunatic knew what she was doing when she tied the knots. You're locked to this bed, naked and paralyzed, like a fly trapped in a spider's web. You hear a faint humming echoing about the halls, getting closer and closer with every one of your breaths. It's such a sing-songy, cheerful tune but it inflames your terror even further once you realize it's the voice of Gluskin. Portended by the stamps of her boots and hums of her throat, Gluskin enters, pulling off and tossing aside a chef's apron absolutely soaked in blood, extremely fresh as you can tell from the iron reek.

 _"♪I want a girl, just like the g-♪ oh, good morning, darling!"_ she greets, so jovial it's almost mocking. _"Relieved to see you're up. I've been passing the time punishing a handful of sluts I caught trying to escape. Thank God you're not like them, hm?"_ she asks as she lays a kiss on your forehead. _"Now, to address the elephant in the room. I admit it, I snapped. I could never put to words the guilt I feel for losing control, with you of all people being the victim of it. The anger of testosterone consumed my reason, I took it out on you, and I'm sorry. It's just, the thought of losing you...anyways, now that you're well-rested, I'm sure your dementia has long cleared. Now you have no power. No burden of independent thought. Nothing but myself to rely on. And that's how it should be, for you're a woman, and I'm a man. Isn't that right, darling?..."_ She smashes the butt of her knife into the frame of the bed, making your heart skip a beat from its loud, terrifying clang. **_"I SAID ISN'T THAT RIGHT, DARLING?!" ___**

 _"YES! YES! You're the patriarch, Edna!_ " now that you're stripped to nothing, all you have left is Gluskin's delusion to desperately pander to.

_"That's right, darling. I knew you weren't like the rest. Now, where were we?"_

Her cold hands drag up your chest and molest your nipples, and her tongue closely follows as she mounts on top of you. She unbuttons her undersized tuxedo to make her breasts flop out with a strong jiggle, dangling above her remarkable abs.

_"Appreciate my body, darling? I've spent weeks chiseling just for the day I met you. Now that today's the day, let's see what it can do, shall we?"_


	6. Happily Married

It's impressive enough to almost instantly double your penis size so it swells up from underneath her skirt and right in between the two globes of silky smooth skin that hang from under her back. She gleefully shudders at the sensation of your head raking up her crack, and she gets so giddy she starts bouncing up and down on it like an excitable little child. Your cock is suffused by the intramural of Gluskin's damp, tight cunt, and her tits flail up and down as whimsically as her hips. You're hypnotized by the pink and pale being jangled in your face. It locks you in a trance of dull, painless ecstasy amplified by Gluskin fucking your brains out from below. You'd grope the couple of beauties till your palms ached if you weren't so tightly bound to the bed. 

_"Oh, you must be so parched from all of this grueling passion, darling!"_ she says in front of a subtle pant. _"Let Edna fix that."_

She gives her two plump, succulent gifts from God a good bleed with her brawny hands. A duo of small milk streams fall from the nipple ducts and are dumped onto your face. You're hydrated by the rapids of sweet white nectar, which gives your body just enough strength to blast out its own sweet white nectar to paint the summit of her belly, planting your seed inside of her as deep as it could ever go. She seems to get more pleasure from your climax than you do, finishing the intense lovemaking sesh off with a dragged howl of pleasure reaching its crown for a few seconds. She flicks her head back with her eyes clutched shut and her hands fondling exposed skin like she's taking a hot shower. She throws you a mischievous glare of ardor and lust, before dismounting from the bed and cutting you free of the restraints. 

_"Oh, darling,"_ she says with a smirk and sigh of sheer gladness. _"This day has been the best of my life, and it will only get better. I have one final surprise for you."_

She carries you in her arms to the next room over. It's not like you'd walk, in this one day you've been forced into enough exercise to last a whole lifetime. She proudly presents you with the surprise she's been building up to. Clung to a mannequin, a bridal gown with the color and delicacy of a dove, made from the scraps of white silk scattered about the block. It might be stitched up and a bit rough but that hardly draws away from its beauty. You reluctantly squeeze into the thing and she watches every second of it like a shameless voyeur. It's a perfect fit; she followed your measurements well. You feel like a fool, but fortunately you don't get a good look at your pathetic self in the cracked mirror thanks to the wedding veil serving as both a mask, and a blinder. 

_"My God, you look amazing,"_ Gluskin praises with tears of joy boiling in her eyes and almost breaking her voice. _"You could be mistaken for an angel, darling. Bless your soul,"_ she worships with a long hug that burns your face up from the blush.

Squeezing you by the hand, she opens a pair of doors to reveal what looks to be the interior of a well-sized chapel you behold through the cracks in your veil. On each shoulder of the aisle is an array of five benches, each of them seating the countless mangled corpses of the staff. A perky-smelling perfume censors the stench of their rot, and a dusty old radio fills the room with the Bridal Chorus as Gluskin forcefully drags you down the rose-littered lane. At the end of your march, she turns you eye-to-eye with a small bouquet of white flowers in her hand, and assertively squirms her tongue around yours after sweeping your veil aside. Gluskin might be a crazy bitch's crazy bitch but you can actually feel the fiery passion radiating from her saliva as it twirls about your gums like a washing machine. While the love is sick and demented, it is at least a true love. She loves you as if you were spouses, and now you are, you guess. 

You don't want to let yourself fall victim to a nutcase's charm, but she's still one hell of a lover, she's earned that. The Vocational Block is a long forgotten secret. It didn't even appear on the several directories that guided you through your first day. Even if the Mount Massive Slaughter is ever cleaned up by Murkoff's security or SWAT, the likelihood of your rescue is next to nothing. The block will be overlooked in their sweep and you will be doomed to a life as a submissive bitch and "loving housewife" to a bipolar psychopath blissfully trapped in the 1950's. Call it a hunch, but you're starting to think you never should've started working here...  



End file.
